[Having that memory implanted in his head is certainly something he's going to have to learn to deal with. For now, it's too fresh, too new, and his mind continues to focus on the details of it. Remembering how it felt, even though the emotions were alien to him. Both because that sort of loss and fear was unlike anything he's experienced, while likewise still being something he himself did not. Like phantom pains in a limb long since gone, but for a limb that never existed in the first place.
With Nanu's hold relinquished, and the older man leaving himself entirely vulnerable, Guzma has ample opportunity to attack him. To release that anger he wanted to moments prior. But the anger is gone, replaced by guilt that isn't fully his own. In short, that memory exchange has certainly fucked him up to a degree he didn't ever anticipate. Slowly he finds himself steadying his breathing, as the intensity of it all wanes.
Nanu's question goes unanswered at first. He stares down at him with a complicated expression, letting the other talk further as if he's mulling over the answer. Not daring to interrupt him, even as he takes pauses between his words.
Once he finishes, the implied question certainly noted, Guzma takes the time to move off of him, but he doesn't stand. Instead, he sits besides him, legs crossed under each other with his elbows resting on his knees, eyes locked forward before him as they focus on nothing. He almost looks zoned out, honestly.
Seemingly to be at a loss for words for once in his life, the silence persists for a few long moments. It's an odd feeling, but that's par the course in this shitshow of a situation. He draws in a breath through his nose, before letting it out—slow and even—through his mouth. It's shaky, and telling of the answer before he even says it, but the words certainly serve the purpose better:]
Had I known—had I even a clue...
[With an aggravated sound, a hand grasps at his wild hair, his face scrunching with self-aimed frustration. He doesn't finish that sentence, because it sounds too much like an excuse. It sounds too much like a lie to skirt responsibility, and he's trying to stop that, isn't he? The truth is, he did know the dangers of the Ultra Beasts. He knew what people had to face because of Lusamine—because of him. He might not have known those details, known of that specific tragic event... but he's not as much of an idiot as one might assume.
Maybe he shouldn't have joked about Nanu's life like that. Not when the subject matter was nothing to joke about, not when it weighs as heavy as it does on everyone involved. Himself included.
Finally he continues, that hand still holding tight to his hair, as if he's keeping himself on a leash:]
Look—I didn't mean no harm. But that don't change the harm done. I get it.
no subject
With Nanu's hold relinquished, and the older man leaving himself entirely vulnerable, Guzma has ample opportunity to attack him. To release that anger he wanted to moments prior. But the anger is gone, replaced by guilt that isn't fully his own. In short, that memory exchange has certainly fucked him up to a degree he didn't ever anticipate. Slowly he finds himself steadying his breathing, as the intensity of it all wanes.
Nanu's question goes unanswered at first. He stares down at him with a complicated expression, letting the other talk further as if he's mulling over the answer. Not daring to interrupt him, even as he takes pauses between his words.
Once he finishes, the implied question certainly noted, Guzma takes the time to move off of him, but he doesn't stand. Instead, he sits besides him, legs crossed under each other with his elbows resting on his knees, eyes locked forward before him as they focus on nothing. He almost looks zoned out, honestly.
Seemingly to be at a loss for words for once in his life, the silence persists for a few long moments. It's an odd feeling, but that's par the course in this shitshow of a situation. He draws in a breath through his nose, before letting it out—slow and even—through his mouth. It's shaky, and telling of the answer before he even says it, but the words certainly serve the purpose better:]
Had I known—had I even a clue...
[With an aggravated sound, a hand grasps at his wild hair, his face scrunching with self-aimed frustration. He doesn't finish that sentence, because it sounds too much like an excuse. It sounds too much like a lie to skirt responsibility, and he's trying to stop that, isn't he? The truth is, he did know the dangers of the Ultra Beasts. He knew what people had to face because of Lusamine—because of him. He might not have known those details, known of that specific tragic event... but he's not as much of an idiot as one might assume.
Maybe he shouldn't have joked about Nanu's life like that. Not when the subject matter was nothing to joke about, not when it weighs as heavy as it does on everyone involved. Himself included.
Finally he continues, that hand still holding tight to his hair, as if he's keeping himself on a leash:]
Look—I didn't mean no harm. But that don't change the harm done. I get it.